


Boring Is The Worst

by bloodpopsicles



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: M/M, Vampires, mostly banter and sexual tension, preacher amc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:35:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7205528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodpopsicles/pseuds/bloodpopsicles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassidy finally convinces Jesse he's a vampire, and some unrequited pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boring Is The Worst

**Author's Note:**

> I was really disappointed with the lack of preacher content on here, so I had to take it upon myself to add. I've never written slash before, so bear with me as I ease into it. Nothing hardcore, just a one off focusing on character building and banter. I'm definitely wanting to do more with these characters soon!

Cassidy couldn't sleep. Sun had been up for hours yet, shinin' bright through the broken glass of the church attic window. Got so blinding he had to slip on those aviators so helpful in the Texas desert, where the only thing more pervasive than roadside crosses was sunshine. No matter how many times he tried to clean the sunglasses on the ratty stained t shirt he'd been wearing for a week, they never seemed to get clean of the blood smears. Story of his life--things always got bloodier.  
But try as he might, Cass couldn't find rest. Not even a coupla fourties and a spliff did the trick, a method usually foolproof. And insomnia for a vampire is worse than the usual kind, much more dangerous--no midday walks or 24 hour diners to escape to when the tv static turns deafening. Instead he had to dodge stray sunbeams and hole up like a convent nun in this shithole church.  
Cassidy knew why of course--Jesse Custer had taken up residence in his subconscious and didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. Ever since the night at that ramshackle neon dive, Cass hadn't been able to shake the feeling. This soft-spoken man of the cloth, nursing a whiskey, espousing some Christ-y nonsense, and beating the livin’ shite out of redneck Neanderthals... Intrigued him. The man was a car crash of contradictions, and Cassidy couldn't shake the urge to watch.  
He had never objected to sleeping all day before, but all of a sudden it seemed he was missing out on the land of living. All he could think of was that Jesse was out there, facing the world with that steely glare and granite jaw, without Cass smirking over his shoulder.  
So Cass pushed past the primal urge to doze away the day in the pitch black attic closet and headed downstairs whenever he heard Jesse messing about in the cramped back apartment behind the chapel. He didn't want to miss a moment.  
It was round 8:45 when Cass heard the clinking of silverware and the slamming of cabinets, so he sauntered down the side stairs into the tiny unkempt kitchen. Jesse sat at the table, rubbing his eyes over a bowl of frosted flakes.  
"Aye, come now, none of that shite Padre," Cassidy said, dangling a bottle of Jack in front of Jesse's face. "It's breakfast of champions or nothin'."  
"Jesus Cass, you're gonna send yourself into an early grave if ya don't lay off the fire water." Jesse muttered, stifling a yawn.  
Cassidy unscrewed the lid and took a prolonged swig, answering "Wouldn't bet on it, boyo," with a dark chuckle and a wink.  
Jesse sighed and checked his watch, giving Cassidy a sidelong glance. "You're up early."  
Cass snorted derisively. "More like late, if yeh catch me meaning."  
Jesse nodded. "Thought as much. Lookin like a prizefighter with those two black eyes."  
Cass smiled weakly and looked away. "Aye fuck off, not like I can primp in the mirror like you, pretty boy."  
"And just what is that supposed to mean?"  
Cassidy sighed. He could either prolong this charade, stay in the Preacher's good graces till the inevitable, or get it over with. Cass just hoped this wouldn't fuck his chances--he wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to Annville's most mysterious citizen yet. "You never got round to seein' Dracula, eh? Creature of the night, no reflection all that? I told you about my condition just the other night, did I not? And here I thought Preachers were good listeners."  
Jesse chuckled and shook his head. "When you gonna give up the schtick, Cass? That joke wasn't funny the first time..." Jesse trailed off and shot a concerned glance in Cassidy's direction.  
Cass cocked an eyebrow. "Think I'm mental, eh?" He muttered. "Alright then..." He winked at Jesse and turned to the kitchen counter. "Ah, now here's the ticket eh?" Cass turned back to Jesse, a huge knife in his hand and a lopsided smirk on his face.  
Jesse's eyes went wide as he slowly raised from his chair and reached out. "Cass, what in the hell..."  
"I ain't gonna hurt ye, Padre--"  
"I know that, dipshit, it's you I'm worried about!" Jesse managed to stammer out.  
Cass stopped, taken aback, and grinned in spite of himself. "I, uh... Well thanks for the concern love, but I promise it won't hurt a bit--"  
In one swift motion Cassidy slipped the knife between two of his ribs, wincing a bit. "Argh, well I lied, it does sting like a mother..."  
"Good god, why would you..." Jesse exclaimed. "I'm calling 911--"  
"No, no no no no, that won't be necessary," Cassidy cautioned as he reached into the fridge. The knife handle still jutted out of his torso while his white shirt quickly turned crimson.  
He removed an orange juice carton, "CASS" scrawled in ugly letters across the front. All the while Jesse was muttering and shaking his head.  
"Why d'ye think I'm up all night, and in the day I avoid the sun like a jealous lover?" he added while removing a glass from the cupboard. Cass brought the cup and the carton the the kitchen table and proceeded to pour. Instead of OJ, dark red blood filled the glass.  
"Oh fuckin' Christ..." Jesse said as he started to turn away.  
"Hey now, language! Blasphemer and all that..." Cassidy gestured to the knife in his side, which he yanked out unceremoniously. He groaned a little, muttering "that never gets old." Before Jesse knew it Cass had pulled off his shirt and was proudly displaying the knife wound on his ribs. "Like what ye see?" Cass teased. "Now ready for a little magic trick, are we?" He grinned, hoping Jesse was sufficiently impressed by his wiry frame.  
Cassidy drank down the blood--it seemed he was thirsty-- and before Jesse's eyes the gash that was spurting blood moments before sealed up, leaving nary a scar.  
Jesse bit the inside of his cheek and he tried to calm his breathing, but he found himself walking slowly towards the table and taking a seat. Cass watched him carefully, his brow furrowed. "Believe me now?" he offered, attempting to hide the anxiety poisoning his stomach.  
For a good while Jesse stared into the bowl of disintegrating cornflakes before him while Cass sweated, waiting. Finally, his nerves got the better of him.  
"I can leave in a jiff," Cass offered as he stood to go, instantly regretful. "Just let me--"  
"So no fangs," Jesse asked quietly. Cass froze, and slowly sat back down.  
"Uh, no, no fangs to speak of. Shame really, cause I always found em to be the perfect combination of sinister and stylish." Cass rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Not his most well-timed joke.  
“And, uh,” Jesse cleared his throat. “Is that human blood you’re wolfin’ down?”  
Cass shrugged. “Nah, cow’s blood. Let’s just say if human blood was a nice cold pint’a Guinness, animal blood is more like two parts piss one part flat PBR. But it’ll do in a pinch. And believe me this is a pinch,” he added, frowning.  
Cassidy glanced back at Jessie, still examining his bowl of cereal. “You seem to be takin’ this relatively well. Can’t say that’s always the case. Let’s just say I’m no stranger to torches and pitchforks now and again.”  
Jesse sighed. “Well, it ain’t the first time somethin’ unexplainable has happened to me as of late. And I must admit, it explains a lot.”  
“Like my monstrous charm and inexplicable sex appeal?” Cass answered smirking.  
Jesse shot him a look and cracked a tiny reluctant grin.  
Cassidy leaned his chair onto the back legs and pulled a crumpled pack of cigs from his dirty jeans pocket. He popped the cigarette in his mouth with one hand and made a finger gun with the other, leaning back just enough so that the tip of his index finger touched the light leaking through the kitchen blinds. Just as his fingertip caught flame, Cassidy leaned forward and let the chair legs fall to floor. He lit his cigarette, puffed a bit, and shook his fingertip lazily, until it extinguished like a match.  
Jesse raised his eyebrows and exhaled slowly. “Well, I gotta admit, that would come in handy.”  
Cass chuckled, jerking a nod toward the Preacher as he tipped back the bottle of Jack.  
“Ahem, knock knock.”  
Cassidy choked on the whiskey and looked up to find Emily standing in the doorway, arms crossed and face unamused.  
Jesse jerked a bit as well, but regained composure quickly. “C’mon in, Em, we’re just, uh…” He made eye contact with Cass and grimaced. “Havin’ breakfast.”  
Emily cast a suspicious glance at Cassidy, who responded with a toothy grin and an overly enthusiastic “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye!”  
“Cassidy,” she said, a sour edge to her voice, “you know you’re topless and bleedin’ at the breakfast table, right?”  
Cass grinned and played it off. “Oh, you wantin’ a piece of this eh pretty lady?” He smiled slyly at Jesse, who had to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling, while Emily puffed up and looked away. “I jest, I jest, calm down. Had me a bit of an accident with the, uh, waffle maker.”  
Jesse looked at him with narrowed eyes and shook his head, while Cass shrugged.  
“Waffle maker, huh?” Emily answered flatly. “Sure, okay. And I ain’t even gonna ask about the whiskey and whatever that red drink is--”  
“Strawberry smoothie! Gotta stay healthy, ye know, go green ‘n all that.” Cass attempted a sincere smirk with a cigarette between his teeth.  
Emily closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, before turning to Jesse, who was clenching his jaw in an attempt to keep a straight face.  
“Jesse, could I talk to you about setting up some home visits?” She glanced for a half a second to Cassidy, before adding “Alone, please.”  
“Alright now, contrary to popular belief, I can indeed take a hint,” Cassidy interjected as he got up from the table. As he left he placed a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Lovely breakfast, dear,” he offered, winking. Jesse rolled his eyes and shrugged away, but Cass saw the ghost of a smile on the Preacher’s lips.  
With that image in his mind, Cass sat in the darkened cool of the attic closet and, somehow, dozed off. Smiling.


End file.
